That Extra Moment

The profound impact of a few sincere words.

It was a typical end-of-the-year school play. I, like all the other mothers of this third grade class, dutifully arrived at the school auditorium, prepared to feel awash with gratified pride. Our lips were pursed to smile unabashedly with delight, our cameras set to flash endless pictures of our young daughters’ performance.

We zealously arrived early, to snap up a coveted front-row seat, to snatch a first-hand glimpse of our daughters and to send confidence-building winks and smiles their way, to allay any lingering pre-play stage fright.

As a grandmother of one of my daughter’s friends, you were there too, to share in this moment of joy. You were circulating around the room, passing by each row and extending a welcoming greeting. A smile passed over each face after you shared some pleasant or witty word of kindness.

I sat impatiently awaiting the play to commence, as I observed you finding something to say to so many people. Watching as you stopped by each and every chair, I surmised you must have many friends and are acquainted with many people.

Then you reached my chair. I didn’t expect you to pause at all. After all, we don’t really know each other and only meet infrequently on these rare school occasions.

So I was surprised that you did stop right in front of me. You made direct eye contact and you politely exchanged some perfunctory comments. I was waiting for you to move on to someone you knew better, but instead you took an extra moment to find a point in common with me -- me, a young mother and you, a seasoned grandmother. You said that you knew my father well and you told me what a beautiful person he is and how you saw the same inner beauty in my eyes.

It was almost a strange comment to be saying to a near stranger. Almost too serious and meaningful for such a chance encounter. Almost a ridiculous compliment, given the context.

Almost, but not really.

Somehow those few words spoken so genuinely touched me deeply and heartened me. I smiled like all the others by whom you stopped, inwardly encouraged.

Maybe some other day I would have regarded your comment as meaningless, almost silly, and certainly not worth a second thought. But not that day. On this day, it became engraved in my thoughts.

Most of us rarely realize the effect of our words. Maybe if we did, we would choose them more carefully.

You see, just that morning, shortly before I arrived at the school play to enjoy the respite of an afternoon of motherly pleasure, I had received a phone call. The call blackened my world and stole my cheer.

I was informed the tragic news that medical tests that my father had, at that time, undergone pointed to a large growth. The doctors’ prognosis was grim.

It wasn’t until several months later -- after endless tears were shed, earnest communal prayers recited and a harrowing surgical experience -- that a miraculously benign growth was removed and my father recovered fully. But at that moment, after replacing the phone into its receiver, my world view turned dismal.

I drove the drive to my daughter’s play trying to collect my thoughts as tears blurred my vision. It wouldn’t be fair to burden my young and excited daughter with my emotions. Today was her special day. She had so eagerly anticipated proudly demonstrating the culmination of several week’s of preparation to her mother.

For her sake, I would have to withhold my intense feelings. I would have to put the grim news in the back recesses of my mind, and, at least for these few hours of the afternoon, pretend that nothing had been disclosed to me.

The moment that you approached me, I was trying desperately to remove any vestige of worry from my mind. I was trying to erase the creases of tension from my knotted forehead, to force my lips into a casual smile and focus my mind on the impending play. For my daughter’s sake, I must laugh at all the comical parts and clap when applause was called for, even if I heard and saw nothing but the vision of my father before my eyes. I told myself I could not and would not allow melancholy to overtake me -- at least not now.

And as I felt the anguish of this mental wrestling, you approached me. You said your sweet words. Words that any other day may not have sounded nearly so appropriate or nearly so sweet.

You had no idea how your sincere words were a pleasant distraction that comforted a mind racing with bleak thoughts.

When someone is in a difficult circumstance, when one’s worldview becomes dark and oppressive, any smile and any kind word of encouragement becomes a soothing balm -- just as any harsh, critical words becomes that much more painful to endure.

Unbeknownst to you, you uplifted me on that day.

And, in retrospect, thinking about you making your rounds up and down the aisles, I could see that you did that for every person in the room. I don’t know what emotional burden each of the other mothers and grandmothers were carrying, but I could witness their momentary encouragement as you passed by each of them.

We all carry some hurt, some struggle and some pain. Whether we choose to share it with others is our own valid choice. But a word of kindness from another -- even a stranger -- can penetrate into our psyche to slightly lighten our burden and temporarily brighten our demeanor.

I think most of us, rarely realize the effect of our words. Maybe if we did, we would choose them more carefully.

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About the Author

Chana Weisberg is the author of four books, the latest, Divine Whispers -- Stories that Speak to the Heart and Soul . Weisberg lectures on issues relating to women, faith, relationships and the Jewish soul and has currently scheduled a worldwide book tour to promote her new books. To book a talk for your community, for information on her books or speaking schedule, please contact: weisberg@sympatico.ca

The opinions expressed in the comment section are the personal views of the commenters. Comments are moderated, so please keep it civil.

Visitor Comments: 3

(3)
Ruth,
January 25, 2005 12:00 AM

gevaldik!

Gevaldkik! Yasher Koach for a fantastic article. I will try to emulate that teacher even at home.

(2)
Reba,
January 24, 2005 12:00 AM

Healing words

What a heartwarming and beautiful story. I will long remember it and try one day to make my words help and heal.

(1)
Anonymous,
January 23, 2005 12:00 AM

An anonymous great model for us all

We are in debt to Chana Weisberg for sharin this story with us. It reminds me of the advice not to frown, as we are unaware of the effects our smiles have on others. How much more important are the purposeful smile and kind word. Let us not be stingy with them!

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I want to know about the concept of "sin" due to Adam and Eve eating from the Tree of Knowledge. The Christian concept of sin revolves around the fall of the man and the "original sin." Does Judaism view it the same way?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

Adam and Eve were punished according to their actions. In other words, God laid down the conditions for Adam and Eve to live in the garden, provided they would not eat from the Tree of Knowledge. However, if they were to eat from that tree they would be punished by experiencing death. (If they had not eaten from the tree, they would have remained immortal.)

This sets down the basic principle in Judaism of Reward and Punishment. Basic to this is that every person has the choice of doing good or bad. When a person chooses "good" – as defined by God – he is able to draw close to God. In other words, every individual has a chance to "gain salvation" through his own actions.

My understanding of Christianity, however, is that the Original Sin has infected all of mankind to the point where individuals are incapable of achieving salvation through their own initiative. Man is "totally depraved" and therefore his only hope of salvation is through the cross.

This belief is contrary to the teachings of Judaism. From the Torah perspective, an individual does not need to rely on anyone else to atone for them. In Judaism, sins can be "erased" altogether by sincere repentance and a firm resolution never to repeat the mistakes.

For more on this, read "Their Hollow Inheritances" by Michael Drazin – www.drazin.com

Yahrtzeit of Moses in 1273 BCE (Jewish year 2488), on the same day of his birth 120 years earlier. (Consequently, "May you live to 120" has become a common Jewish blessing.) Moses was born in Egypt at a time when Pharaoh had decreed that all Jewish baby boys be drowned in the Nile River. His mother set him afloat in a reed basket, where he was -- most ironically -- discovered by Pharaoh's daughter and brought to Pharaoh's palace to be raised. When Moses matured, his heart turned to aid the Jewish people; he killed an Egyptian who was beating a Jew, and he fled to Midian where he married and had two sons. God spoke to Moses at the Burning Bush, instructing him to return to Egypt and persuade Pharaoh to "let My people go." Moses led the Jews through the ten plagues, the Exodus, and the splitting of the Red Sea. Seven weeks later, the Jews arrived at Mount Sinai and received the Torah, the only time in human history that an entire nation experienced Divine revelation. Over the next 40 years, Moses led the Jews through wanderings in the desert, and supervised construction of the Tabernacle. Moses died before being allowed to enter the promised Land of Israel. He is regarded as the greatest prophet of all time.

Lack of gratitude is at the root of discontent. In order to be consistently serene, we must master the attribute of being grateful to the Creator for all His gifts. As the Torah (Deuteronomy 26:11) states, "Rejoice with all the good the Almighty has given you." This does not negate our wanting more. But it does mean that we have a constant feeling of gratitude since as long as we are alive, we always have a list of things for which to be grateful.

[Just before Moses' death] God said to him, "This is the Land that I promised to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob" (Deuteronomy 34:4).

The Midrash says that Moses pleaded to live long enough to be able to enter the Promised Land. He surrendered his soul only after God instructed him to enter Heaven and inform the Patriarchs that the Israelites had come to their Land and that God had indeed fulfilled His promise to give the Land of Israel to their descendants. To fulfill God's will was dearer to Moses than his craving to enter the Land.

It is only natural to cling to life, and the thought of leaving this world is depressing. However, if a person develops the attitude that he lives only in order to fulfill God's will, then life and death are no longer polar opposites, because he lives to do the will of God, and when that will requires that he leave this world, he will be equally obedient.

The seventh day of Adar is the anniversary of Moses' death. He wanted to enter the Promised Land so that he could fulfill the commandments and thereby have a new opportunity to fulfill the Divine wish. He surrendered his soul willingly when he was told that there was a special commandment for him to perform, one that could only be achieved after leaving this earth.

We refer to Moses as Rabbeinu, our teacher. He not only taught us didactically, but by means of everything he did in his life - and by his death, as well.

Today I shall...

try to dedicate my life to fulfilling the will of God, so that even when that will contradicts my personal desires, I can accept it with serenity.

With stories and insights,
Rabbi Twerski's new book Twerski on Machzor makes Rosh Hashanah prayers more meaningful. Click here to order...